


the reeling

by asteronomic



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - Paris, Jazz Age, Love at First Sight, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Roaring Twenties, Romance, Walking In On Someone, and a tiny iceland questioning societal conventions, bellboy den, featuring: sexually curious norway, hot bellboy den, hotel au, inspired by hemingway/fitzgerald, violinist norway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 02:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13114263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asteronomic/pseuds/asteronomic
Summary: In 1920s Paris, Kristian finds his curiosity leads him...astray.





	the reeling

**Author's Note:**

> french notes:  
> “Excusez-moi. Est-ce qu’il y a quelqu’un là qui peut m’aider? Je dois prendre mes bagages au quatrième étage. Excusez-moi!” : “Excuse me. Is there anyone around who can help me? I have to take my bags to the fourth floor. Excuse me!”  
> “Monsieur” : “Sir”  
> “Je n’ai rien vu. Il ne me profiterait pas si je vous signalais.” : “I did not see anything. It would not benefit me to report you.”  
> “Merci, monsieur. Merci.” : “Thank you, sir. Thank you.” (with implied sincerity)  
> “Bonsoir, monsieur.” : “Goodnight, sir.”

THE REELING

Although perhaps better suited to more dynamic performances, the theatre welcomed Kristian like an old friend; he felt, as he packed his violin away into its crimson-lined case, that the concert had been a tremendous success. It was early morning now, and all the cars and suits had long left La Cigale, and when he returned to the hôtel it was perfectly silent. 

As such, Kristian stood alone in the foyer with a suitcase in one hand and violin in the other. He tapped the bell on the desk in the faint hope that there might be some straggler hanging about who knew how to proceed but—alas, his call fell on deaf ears. A weak light shone down from the great marble stairway, so he sighed and unwillingly heaved his luggage up. 

“Excusez-moi,” he called, halfway up. “Est-ce qu’il y a quelqu’un là qui peut m’aider? Je dois prendre mes bagages au quatrième étage. Excusez-moi!”

Nothing, and then the faint sounds of jazz on the gramophone and soft laughter. It was evident that he remained unnoticed, and so he heaved his two bags up the steps once more and leaned into the occupied salon.

For a moment, he did not understand; then, he was suddenly struck by the memory of a conversation he had had around the dinner table, years ago, as a child in Bergen. 

 

_“Papa, why is it that Kristian is to marry Josefine, and I am to marry Christine, and Oscar is to marry Nora, yet Helmer cannot marry Sverre?”_ the young Emil had asked their father. Kristian quietly sipped his soup while their mother blanched and their father stroked his moustache. 

_“If Helmer was to marry Sverre, how would either of them carry forward their respective family names?”_ he finally asked, lowering his eye-glasses to peer at his younger son.

Emil was unsure. _“Is it necessary that they should? Both Helmer and Sverre have older brothers, and Sverre doesn’t want children anyway—he said to Kristian that he is afraid any child of his would suffer as he does. Surely it should be that they marry who they want, so as to avoid family conflict?”_

Father shook his head. _“The law and the Church do not understand such moral reasoning. Emil, I quite agree with you—Helmer should be able to marry Sverre, just as you should be able to marry Oscar, should you wish to, and Kristian should be able to marry Sigurd, should he wish to. However, if you were to propose the same idea to Pastor Johansen, he would tell you this is unnatural. Our society today is not accepting of such a concept—at best, to lie with a man is an unfortunate disease.”_

All of a sudden, Emil was quite disheartened. _“But then, what shall become of Helmer and Sverre?”_

_“I’m afraid that’s quite dependant on their ability to keep it quiet. It will probably not last—homosexual relations don’t tend to.”_

Kristian furrowed his brow. _“Why is that?”_

_“Well, if you consider the situation—they can’t spend much time together, and they can’t share the love with their families—it doesn’t lend itself to a lasting relation, does it?”_

 

In the hôtel, Kristian presumed that this is what he was seeing: _un amour interdit_. He supposed that one of the two entangled in each other must be the porter he was looking for. “Excusez-moi,” he repeated, becoming tired of carrying his bags. 

Both parties started, and the gramophone stuttered. The shorter of the two—young, blonde, face of absolute fear—pushed the other man away and brushed specks off his rumpled uniform. 

“Monsieur—”

“Je n’ai rien vu. Il ne me profiterait pas si je vous signalais.”

The young man bowed his head. “ _Merci_ , monsieur. Merci.”

His partner—a large, athletic type with the air of someone of great self-assurance—looked between them, glaring at Kristian. “Søren, I am leaving.”

Søren paled. “Ivan, please—”

Ivan shook his head, straightening his tie. “I have seen enough. Goodnight, Søren. Bonsoir, monsieur.”

Kristian watched him stalk out of the salon, head held high. He found the situation somewhat amusing—clearly Ivan had expected Søren to stand up for the both of them, to challenge Kristian, no matter his stance on it. He was reminded once again of the dinner-table conversation with his brother and father; Emil would likely feel the same as Ivan, he supposed. His own feelings, well—

“Are your relations exclusive?”

—he’d have to find out.

“Monsieur, you talk English too?” Søren asked, avoiding the question.

“My name is Thomassen. The other boy, are you seeing only him?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Would you be opposed to pursuing a similar relation with me?”

Søren fell silent for an eternity, then rearranged his wild hair and necktie. “Monsieur Thomassen, I couldn’t possibly—I mean, you’re a guest—and why?”

Truly, Kristian did not know. He’d never had feelings for man or woman, but somehow this young man had triggered something in him—less a desire, more a curiosity. That was it— _curiosity_. A desire to know what it felt like—to know the gentle touch of male lips the way he’d only known of women. To know the feeling of loving back—not just being loved. 

“Curiosity,” Kristian said. “Because I’m curious.”

Søren’s lips made a thin line, and then suddenly broke into laughter—a full, rich sound that made Kristian feel as if, despite everything, it might just be okay. “Curiosity! Ain’t that the same for all of us? Sure, I’ll sleep with you, monsieur, out of _curiosity_.”

“Curiosity, yes,” Kristian repeated. “I still need help with my bags. I’m on the fourth floor.”

“Compris, monsieur,” said Søren, taking Kristian’s suitcase from him. He was strong; Kristian could not carry the load with such ease.

In the suite, Søren placed Kristian’s bags on the floor and offered to unpack them. Kristian did not care about unpacking the bags, and told Søren as such.

“Then, monsieur, what can I do for you?”

Kristian sat down on his bed and looked at Søren. “You have beautiful eyes,” he said.

“Ivan always said they’re too blue.”

“Ivan is wrong.”

“Have you slept with another man before, monsieur?”

“It’s Kristian. I have not, but neither have I lain with a women.”

“You ain’t serious. A man as pretty as you?”

“You flatter me. I haven’t had the time to pursue relationships. Rather, I have been the object of pursuit.”

“Well, I sure can see why. _Kristian_.”

Søren sat beside him on the bed now, one foot tapping against the bedframe. Kristian leant down to his suitcases and took out a bottle of whisky and poured two glasses. After a while, he poured two more. With each glass poured, Søren and he became closer, more tangled in each other, until—

As the sun began to rise, Søren laid in Kristian’s bed, smooth, marble skin bare against soft white sheets, as Kristian played slow songs on his violin.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr -- @scandinavienne. this was once part of a whole Thing, but shit happened and this is all i could manage.  
> homosexuality wasn't technically illegal in france in the 20s. france was in fact the first western european country to decriminalise homosexual acts between consenting adults. however... still pretty damn socially unacceptable, i'm afraid.  
> also, french catholicism. (not the biggest fan of the gays(tm).)  
> leave a comment if you, too, believe that helmer should marry sverre.


End file.
